


Absence

by V_mum



Series: Aboveworld Tales [4]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: soft depression themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 19:04:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9839888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/V_mum/pseuds/V_mum
Summary: “You realize, this… this thing we have, where we don’t talk about anything… all of these… these things? Yeah, that has to change.”Frisk nodded.From there, they just sat in silence, absent of the long conversations and other dark things within them that would have to come. For now, they just sat in the absence of the pressures, and the absence of thought.





	

Papyrus, after a longtime in the kitchen, dozed off.

Frisk, squirming out of their chair and his arms, gave him a small kiss on the forehead, grateful in every way he was okay. He was home safe.

All that was left was to see Sans. Everyone else, they were here, home, safe. Frisk wouldn’t be able to relax, or deal with any of… this, until they saw Sans. Until they knew he was home, and he was safe.

They searched the house, bear feet pattering over the floor, but didn’t find him here. So they turned to the front door, and made their way out into the cold air, barefoot.

The first snow of winter had fallen in between Frisk’s last moments of consciousness and waking in their room, but seeing as Frisk didn’t know how long they’d slept, who knew when that was. It didn’t matter much, though; Sans and Papyrus’ home was just next door, so Frisk barefooted the pristine fresh snow top of the front yard quickly and climbed the front door steps.

The door was unlocked, since Sans was the only one here- or maybe he wasn’t- but he always forgets to lock it, coming or going.

They stand in the living room a while, rubbing their feet over the carpet, wiggling their toes to warm them. They checked the bottom floor just to be sure before heading up the stairs to Sans’ room.

The door slid open easily, unlocked. While Sans could never remember to lock the house, he always locked his room when he wasn’t inside. Frisk found him inside, lying on his bed.

Greasy sheet ball knocked off on the floor, scruffy and stained mattresses from the underground. Toriel had given him a star-patterned comforter for his bed, with little constellations, on the last Surface-Day festival. It’d never ended up stuck in the grease ball, but he still rarely used it, and kept it folded at the end of his bed, normally. Sans didn’t like pillows or blankets- he always kicked them off or pushed them away while slept. Papyrus told Frisk, once, that when Sans has nightmares, he thrashes too much and the blankets tangle him and make it worse. He just didn’t like pillows, never had.

He was just laying on his back, in his usual shorts but no shirt, and his jacket was in a heap on the floor, despite the cold chill in the house. The skeleton brothers normally kept it warm- while unbothered by the cold, they still preferred it cozy.

The room was dark. Sans had broken the bulb in the ceiling light a long time ago, and it’d never been fixed, still in the socket. He had a lamp- but, it was the same on from the underground. Wish a flashlight that had no batteries in it.

After a few moments of taking in the cold, depressing darkness, Frisk carefully closed the bedroom door, silent, and toddled their way up to the edge of his bed, hands fidgeting quietly.

There was a quiet nostalgia to the moment. For a moment, their vision flashed, and they were smaller- younger- and it was someone else on the bed, and there was an empty pair of bottles with a bad smell on the floor, the slight liquids they’d had within having dripped out and stained ugly grayed, dirty carpet.

But then it was Sans again, and they were 12, not 6. Sans never drank at home- only at grillby’s, and not all that often, so there were no foul smelling bottles. They weren’t a little child, trying to ask about when they could eat, worried to wake the one on the bed.

Sans was awake, they soon noticed. His eyes were open, and stared up at his ceiling. The lights of his eyes were dull, less white and fading into the blackness around their edges. The strange expansion and retraction of his ribs- an instinctive habit- was almost soothing.

In the quiet of Sans’ depressing room of mess, darkness, and cold, Frisk climbed up next to him on the bed, and laid beside him.

“You realize, this… this thing we have, where we don’t talk about anything… all of these… these things? Yeah, that has to change.”

Frisk nodded.

From there, they just sat in silence, absent of the long conversations and other dark things within them that would have to come. For now, they just sat in the absence of the pressures, and the absence of thought.

They just lay in silence.

**Author's Note:**

> alright, folks. sorry this series went on a soft hiatus there; after i lost my files and my story plan for this series, as many of you all know, i kinda slumped on my bigger stories... but i'm getting back into this one just like i got back into my stand alone stories.
> 
> so, here we go.


End file.
